


Though Lovers Be Lost

by poetikat



Series: And Death Shall Have No Dominion [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Gay Characters, Canon Lesbian Character, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetikat/pseuds/poetikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana worries she'll never find someone to love her the way she wants to be loved.  But she's not as alone as she thinks.  Set ten months post-epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though Lovers Be Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Joyful, my volunteer porn beta and invaluable friend.

_“Welcome to USUnited, so_lebanese! Feel free to post your story to the Wall of Remembrance, connect with other US citizens in the USUnited chat room, or browse the forums.”_

Santana props her chin up on her fist and gives the laptop screen her best glare. The cheerful greeting doesn’t change. Why’d she talk herself into this again?

Across the hall, Kurt says something she can’t quite make out, and Dave laughs. Right. That’s why. She’s on USUnited because, happy as she is for her boys, she wants something she’s never going to have. She is happy for them – truly happy, not even the tiniest hint of a lie anywhere in there. They don’t treat her any differently than they did before, and the last thing she feels is neglected. But when Kurt and Dave still hadn’t gotten together, they were like three parts of a whole, fitting together perfectly, seamlessly, always in sync and always on the same wavelength. Now she’s a part of their little universe of three looking in on a smaller universe of two and wondering if she has any right to want to be in there with them.

Puck has Lauren, and Lauren has Puck. Kurt has Dave, and Dave has Kurt. Margaret’s been a single mother since Puck was in elementary school, and Sarah’s thirteen. Santana has Kurt and Dave to snuggle with, to talk and read and play with, to spend hours just relaxing and enjoying the comfortable silence with. They give her mental intimacy, emotional intimacy, trust and affection and love that she used to think she’d lost forever when Brittany died. Still, when she sleeps in her own room half the week – every other night, like clockwork, despite their protests – she sometimes hears their bed creaking and the low, breathless groans they can’t manage to stifle. And she has to admit, even if it’s only to herself –

She misses sex.

She misses the rumpled sheets and the pillows strewn around the room, the smell of sex in the air and the salty taste of sweat on her tongue, the smooth limbs and soft fingers, the long hair tickling her all over as it trails from her face to her breasts to her stomach and lower – Jesus Christ does she ever miss sex.

With a heavy sigh, she clicks on the link for the forums and gives the main topics a cursory scan before clicking on _“Famous Survivors.”_ What the hell. Why not?

The top link is to another sub-forum for _“The_ Don Quixote _Three.”_ She hesitates for just a moment, cursor hovering above the link. This is one of the worst ideas she’s had in a long time. She should log out, shut the laptop, and go join the boys in the living room.

Fuck it. She clicks through, and clicks through again to _“What would you do if you met Santana Lopez?”_ She’s a fucking masochist, that’s what she is. A goddamn masochist with no impulse control.

kissmyarvada: Probably babble like an idiot and die of shock.  
CaliforniaDreaming321: I’d hug her if she let me.  
AlwaysAkron: OMG yes. She’s just so amazing. She’s been through so much.  
newbraunfels4evr: I dont know if I could do what she did. ******* A shes so badass.  
Wild_Wyoming: They all are but shit a girl did all that? She has to have a serios set of balls on her.  
MontanaMaximus: maybe she used the guys balls. if u know what i mean. ;)  
CaliforniaDreaming321: You’re gross.  
MontanaMaximus: ur a prude. come on admit it. shes probably fucking hot as hell. think those dudes werent getting some on the way?  
raleighrioter: probably not since they were on the ******* run the whole time. But if they didn’t get some tail after then they have to be ******* gay or total pussies.  
Wild_Wyoming: That’s asuming she’s hot.  
MontanaMaximus: her names santana lopez. thats not an ugly girls name. but even if she was id still get in there if I had the chance. that whole badass chick with guns thing is so hot.

“First rule of Zombie Club,” Lauren says over her shoulder. Santana jumps in her seat and twists around to see Lauren looking at the screen with a combination of fascination and disgust. “Do not Google yourself. Second rule of Zombie Club: do _not_ Google yourself.”

“I didn’t,” Santana says, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I just joined the USUnited site, and when I went looking through the forums I found this.”

“Even when they have nothing, men can still be sexist pigs,” Lauren says. “That’s just gross.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Santana says. “I feel like I need to take a shower after reading that.”

“Look,” Lauren says, “Assholes will always try to tear you down. It’s jealousy, and a pathetic need to reassure themselves that it doesn’t matter that you did the impossible because you’re a girl and they still have itty bitty dicks to brag about.”

“I forget about it so easily,” Santana says. “Not about what happened, but that outside here everyone knows who we are. It’s useful sometimes – I mean, we wouldn’t even have the house if we weren’t. But then there’s this. And it just pisses me off so much I want to scream.”

“Get out of the chair,” Lauren says. Santana slides off and gets to her feet, and Lauren sits down and cracks her knuckles with a determined expression. “You signed up with a dummy email account, right?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Santana says.

“Good, because I’m going to have some good old fashioned fun.” Lauren opens up a text box to post a new comment and types quickly, reading her post out loud as she does. “The boogeyman used to have to check his closet for Chuck Norris before he went to bed every night. Now he checks it for Santana Lopez.”

Santana laughs and hugs Lauren around her shoulders from behind. “Are you seriously writing Chuck Norris facts about me?”

“No, I’m writing Santana Lopez facts,” Lauren says. “Believe me, I can come up with dozens. If this doesn’t turn into a meme in a month or less I’ll take your dishwashing duties for two weeks.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Santana says.

“The boys need someone to beat them at Mario Kart,” Lauren says. “They’re getting cocky. Get out of here. Ooh, hey. ‘Death once had a near-Santana Lopez experience.’ Like that?”

“I love it,” Santana says. “Knock yourself out.”

“When Santana Lopez says ‘Knock yourself out,’ everyone on the planet gets a concussion,” Lauren says gleefully. “Now get lost.”

Santana gives her one more tight squeeze for good measure and leaves the dining room, crossing the entrance hall with every intention of kicking the boys’ asses at the only video game they could ever all agree upon. Lauren’s right. Puck’s getting cocky, and someone needs to take him down a peg or twenty.

She doesn’t need to announce her presence when she walks in. Dave just shoves Puck off the couch and onto the floor and puts his arm across the backrest. “Kurt’s getting bored,” he says without turning away from the screen. “Want to take over?”

“Hell yes,” she says, and she jumps over the back of the couch to settle in against his side. Kurt passes the Wii controller to her across Dave’s chest as Dave lets his arm drop from the backrest and down around her shoulders.

“Have fun,” Kurt says, pulling out a book from the stack on the side table. “Puck’s being insufferable.”

“You know what they say,” Santana says. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

“No kidding,” Puck says, craning his neck up to give Dave an indignant look. “What the hell, dude?”

“Sorry,” Dave says, sounding completely unapologetic. “You just aren’t good looking enough to sit on the couch when Kurt _and_ Santana are in the room. Suck it up.”

“I’m better looking than you,” Puck says petulantly, giving his controller an angry flick that sends Bowser careening into Princess Peach.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Kurt says, eyes already glued to the pages of his book. “Grow three inches, gain twenty or thirty pounds, and, oh, turn into Dave, and then we’ll talk.”

“I’m not freaking short,” Puck says. “You’re my height, too.”

“I never said you were,” Kurt says. “Now hush. I’m reading.”

“What he said,” Santana says.

On the screen, Princess Peach catches up to Bowser and knocks him into the wall. “Are you okay?” Dave asks Santana in an undertone. “You’re seriously tense.”

“Creeps on the internet,” she says. “I’m giving up USUnited as a lost cause. The rest of the refugee sites, too. It’s just not worth dragging myself through all that crap to find someone.”

Dave rubs her upper arm, every inch of him projecting comfort and reassurance. “You know you aren’t alone, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” she says, waving her controller at the screen and watching Yoshi put on an extra burst of speed. “But I want – you know. It would be nice to have something like, um.” Like what he and Kurt have. Like what she wanted so badly to have with Brittany. Sometimes she has to force herself not to imagine what it would be like if they weren’t guys – they are, and they always will be, but she knows there aren’t any other people on the planet who could ever get her the way they do, or love her the way they do. They’re exactly who she wants to spend the rest of her life with. No one else will ever come close.

But they’re guys, and they’re gay, and they have each other, and that is all she fucking wrote.

“We want that for you, too,” he says, and he takes his eyes off the screen for a second to look at Kurt. “Hey.”

Kurt closes his book and looks up. “Yes.”

“Yes, you’re paying attention?”

“No,” Kurt says. “That’s my yes. I’m saying yes.”

“Tonight?” Dave asks, and Kurt nods and goes back to his book.

Tonight’s one of her sleeping apart nights. Whatever Kurt agreed to has nothing to do with her. She shrugs it off as well as she can and focuses on the game. She’s almost neck and neck with Bowser, and there’s enough space between there and the finish line to puncture Puck’s ego.

She just hopes that ‘tonight’ doesn’t mean a creaking bed and quiet moans. She doesn’t know if she could handle it at all, not with the rut her mind has been stuck in for the past several weeks, and definitely not with her mood this evening.

**

Santana, mouth cool and minty from toothpaste, pulls back her hair into a messy ponytail as she heads to her room for the night. The summer night is balmy and mild, even inside the house, and she’s taking full advantage of it, dressed as she is in a sheer tank top and loose cotton shorts that hang low on her hips. Her room will be warmer than the rest of the top floor, given the lack of a window. She’s looking forward to a night with only a sheet to cover her.

It’s not much to look forward to, but it will do. It’s enough.

“G’night,” Puck says sleepily as she passes him in the hall. “I’m gonna get you back for that tomorrow. Rematch, you and me. Fight to the death.”

“You wish,” she says, bumping her hip against his playfully. “Night.”

She pads down the hallway in her bare feet, already trying to think up ways to make up sleeping alone tonight more enjoyable. Her woefully short list is interrupted when she reaches the door to find Kurt leaning against it, his thumbs tucked inside his baggy sleep pants. “Have you come to say goodnight?” she asks.

“No,” he says. He captures her eyes and holds them, and she’s surprised to see a hint of nervousness flickering across his face. “We want you to be with us tonight.”

“I told you,” she says. “You guys get to have your alone time. It’s fine.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says. He looks over his shoulder to their bedroom, and Santana follows his gaze and sees Dave hovering in the open doorway watching them talk. “I mean, we want you to _be_ with us tonight.”

She sucks in a lungful of air and abruptly chokes on it. “You’re gay,” she says dumbly as soon as she can breathe again. “You’re gay, and there’s no fucking way you want me like that.”

“We’re gay, and you’re Santana, and that makes all the difference,” Kurt says. “We were waiting to say something to you, but we weren’t sure how to do it. Not about – you know. But about us. Incompatible orientations aside, do you honestly think we feel any different about you than we feel about each other?”

“I –” Santana falters and meets his eyes again. Here she is, standing with her hand poised to open the door, and Kurt all but tells her that their little universe of two, the one she didn’t think she belonged in, has exactly the right amount of space to turn it back into a universe of three. “I – me too, so do I, but I don’t even like guys like that.”

“We know,” Kurt says steadily.

“What happens if I say no?” she asks.

“Then we won’t bring it up again,” Kurt tells her. “But we will insist that you come sleep with us tonight. Just to sleep.”

She could say no and they’d forget about it. They’d forget about it, but they’d still have told each other the truth about the way they love each other. The way she loved Brittany, but calmer, stronger, less passionate and more solid. She told them once before, when they still slept in the back of Kurt’s car with guns close at hand. She’s never enjoyed sex with guys. Not ever.

Kurt’s right, though. They’re gay, and she’s Santana. She’s gay, and they’re Kurt and Dave. All their emotions are so tangled up in each other that it’s hard to tell where one of them ends and the others begin. And above all, she knows they’ll respect her boundaries.

“I’m not saying I want to do this a lot,” she says slowly. “Not often. Maybe only once. But yes. I think I want to.”

Kurt smiles at that, eyes bright. He tilts her face up and bends down to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to her lips. “In that case, let’s go be with our Dave and back in our room where we belong.”

He keeps his hand on the small of her back as they walk the stretch of the hallway separating them from Dave, an unconscious, gentlemanly gesture that doesn’t surprise Santana in the least coming from him. When they’re within arm’s reach of Dave he drags his knuckles lightly up and down her lower vertebrae, and Dave leans in to give her the same sweet kiss that Kurt had.

“Thanks for saying yes,” he murmurs, carefully pulling her hair free of the elastic band and tucking it behind her ear with his big, broad hand.

“Let’s go inside,” she says. “I have to get a few things out of the way first.”

“Of course,” Kurt says. They step across the threshold together, the three of them in that tight knot that’s so familiar but so incredibly different it feels almost unreal. He shuts the door behind them and says, not letting go of Santana, “What do you need?”

“We never talk about it outside our room,” she says seriously, looking them both in the eye to drive it home. “We’re going to end up leaving the house eventually, and people are going to find out you’re together. Not everyone will care, but enough people will to make things a little hard for us. I don’t want you to hide yourselves. But if people find out about all of us – what we are to each other – it’s not going to be good.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks.

“I don’t care if the rest of our family knows,” she says, “But outside our bedroom I’m not going to say a damn thing about us, and you won’t either. I mean it.”

Dave looks disappointed but unsurprised. “Okay.”

“We tell each other when we want to,” Santana says. “I don’t want to be with you every time, and I don’t think you want me with you every time, either.”

“Okay,” Kurt says.

“And – there’s stuff I don’t want to do,” she says. “I don’t want you in me. Not my mouth, not my lady parts, not anywhere else.”

“Oh, we have no problem with that one,” Dave says, exchanging an amused look with Kurt. “To be honest, we’re not exactly interested in, uh, getting inside your, uh.”

“Lady parts,” Kurt supplies helpfully. Santana snickers.

“I figured it would be the only euphemism you’d actually be okay using,” she says.

“That’s very considerate,” Kurt says, laughter in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Is that it?” Dave asks.

“That’s it,” Santana says, and she goes on tiptoe to kiss first Dave, and then Kurt. “Well?”

Kurt slides his hands under her tank top in response, pulling it up and over her head carefully as she raises her arms above her head to help him. Dave, in turn, strips off Kurt’s tee shirt, and Kurt does the same for him, threading his fingers through Dave’s hair and tugging his head down the few inches separating their mouths to kiss him properly, hot and hard. Santana uses their moment of distraction to hook her fingers in the waistband of her shorts and push them down to her ankles.

“Lose the pants,” she says as she steps out of them, and they pull apart slowly. They look at her with distinctly odd expressions – not lust, not passion, just a refreshingly honest appreciation of her body in the most objective sense of the word and a very clear unfamiliarity with everything they see. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve never seen a naked girl before.”

Their expressions shift into identical looks of incredulity, and she has to giggle, reaching out to brace herself on Dave’s arm while she laughs against Kurt’s lips, spit-slick and shiny. Dave’s arm shakes beneath her hand, and suddenly they’re all laughing, clutching each other to stay upright as they shush each other between giggles.

“Quiet!” Kurt whispers. His voice wobbles with barely restrained laughter. “We can’t wake anyone!”

“Oh my god, just get naked already,” Santana says, and she presses her fist against her mouth to keep from giggling as she rights herself. “Holy shit, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me neither,” Dave says, but he pulls off his boxers and kicks them to the side, and Kurt slides his pajama bottoms down his legs and steps free to stand barefoot and naked before her.

Santana’s seen her boys in various states of undress before, but she’s never taken the time or had the inclination to actually stop and look at them before. For the first time she lets herself look, taking in their bodies just as they did hers. Dave’s regained most of his sturdy bulk, healthy eating and daily runs keeping him broad without the slide into softness he was heading toward before. He’s never been the sort to develop defined muscles, but he’s strong and tall and very, very masculine, chest hair and all. Kurt, on the other hand, is a far cry from how he was before. Just as tall, just as good looking, but wiry instead of slim, face sharper and leaner, muscles in places he probably never even used to know how to exercise. Yes, she can relate entirely to their objective admiration.

“Bed?” she suggests.

“Bed,” Kurt agrees, and as Santana flops onto the bed to wait for them to join her, his hands come up to curve around Dave’s hips. Dave sways toward him, and Kurt walks him backward toward the bed, more than half hard and kissing Dave like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get to do it.

Dave wraps an arm around Kurt’s back, and as he topples over onto the mattress Kurt falls with him, landing with a breathless laugh and a wide smile. “Love you,” Dave murmurs, and scoots up on the bed to kiss Santana tentatively, his lips hesitant against hers. “Love you.”

“You too,” she says, equally quiet.

His end-of-the-day stubble is strange and not at all what she’d prefer, but his lips are smooth and his breath is fresh. She ignores the roughness against her chin and upper lip and raises her head off the pillow to kiss him more firmly, parting her lips just the slightest bit and flitting her tongue across the closed seam of his lips. His mouth falls open out of surprise rather than arousal, and a heartbeat passes before he kisses her back almost shyly.

She squirms with pleasure at the open-mouthed kiss Kurt lays on her neck on her other side, and when he pulls back to blow softly on the wet circle his mouth left behind she can’t suppress a shiver. “I’ll have to remember that one,” Kurt says, and he leans back in to gently suck another one onto her skin directly below the first. He slides his hand up her waist to her breast to toy with her tit, rolling it between clever fingers with just the right amount of pressure.

She stifles a whimper as Dave breaks their kiss and starts in on her other breast, his fingers a bit lighter and unsure. “Are you sure you’re really gay?”

Kurt briefly pulls his mouth away from the line of kisses he’s drawing on her neck to reply. “He has fantastically sensitive nipples. It’s been educational.”

Dave snorts with laughter and drops his forehead to her shoulder. “The word you’re looking for is fun. It’s fun.”

Very fun, if Kurt’s easy, uninhibited touch is anything to go by. “That does sound fun,” she agrees, and reaches over to tweak one experimentally. Dave’s fingers falter and he swallows a groan, his dick growing harder against the side of her thigh. “I’m not going to break,” she tells him, guessing that his uncertainty has to do with being so much larger than her.

“Good.” He pinches her tit between two callused fingertips just firmly enough to ride the line between too soft and too hard, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her clit.

“Ohgoddothatagain,” she gasps, and she flicks her thumb over his nipple, scraping it lightly with her nail. He inhales sharply, and she smirks and gives the other the same treatment.

Kurt blows lightly over the newest kiss and says, “See what I mean?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Santana says distractedly, amused and pleased by Dave’s reaction. She contorts her arm and runs her hand down Kurt’s side, trying to give them the same focused attention they’re giving her. “Let me – please. I want to do something.”

“You first,” Dave says. He sits up and reclines against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed and manhandles Santana into lying back against him, held securely in place between the vee of his legs with strong, capable hands.

There’s itchy chest hair against her back, a hard-on pressing up against her ass. It feels – god, so strange, so not right, not right at all. But then he palms her breast in one of those large hands and murmurs his love for her just above her ear, and suddenly he’s just Dave, her Dave, and everything falls back into place.

Kurt drops a chaste kiss just below her sternum and smiles up at her, tenderness and devotion shining in his eyes. “The day we stop loving you is the day we take our last breaths,” he says softly, and kisses her mouth with gentle care, lingering for a long moment, just brushing his lips across hers, light as a whisper. He kisses the corner of her mouth and stretches past her to give a far more passionate kiss to Dave.

“Not even then,” Santana says. She pulls at Kurt’s arm until he’s on his knees just to the side of Dave, one hand braced against Dave’s shoulder. “Come on. Let me.”

Seemingly content to ignore his erection, he trails his fingers down her stomach and stops just above the little thatch of hair above her pussy. He looks to her, wetting his lips with a quick dart of his tongue. For the first time since they started, he looks unsure. “What do I – what do you want me to do?”

She catches one of his graceful hands and leads it down to the slippery-slick wetness between her legs. “Here,” she says, taking his index and middle fingers and setting his fingertips on the hood of her clit. “Just rub. Up and down works best for me. Don’t do it too hard.”

He nods and starts to follow her instructions to the letter, brow furrowed in concentration, and it’s so unbelievably _cute_ that she has to laugh as she spreads her legs wider and leans back against Dave. Kurt flashes her a grin and presses his fingers against her clit more firmly. Dave chuckles and kisses her temple, her cheekbone, her jaw, wherever his lips can reach, pulling gently at her tits and whispering endearments under his breath.

“Oh god,” she whimpers, heart pounding. Heat creeps up her spine and her legs quiver.

She has to close her eyes and take a deep breath to clear her mind just enough to take Kurt’s dick in her hand, swiping her thumb over the head and smearing pre-come in a shiny streak down the side. He hisses and drops his head to her shoulder, fingers spasming for a second before redoubling their efforts. It’s her turn to grin. Just like riding a bicycle, even if it’s one she never really wanted to ride in the first place.

Dave drops a hand to Santana’s stomach and strokes her skin with the same affectionate touch they’ve always shared outside their room, and he sits up far enough to kiss Kurt hungrily, open mouthed and desperately turned on. Kurt returns it aggressively, sliding his hand from Dave’s shoulder up to the back of his head, pulling him closer by his short hair without missing a beat as he rubs at Santana’s clit. “So fucking hot, Kurt,” Dave mutters. “So hot.”

The heft and weight of Kurt’s dick in her hand isn’t at all what she imagines having anywhere near her when she fantasizes about sex, but the trembling in his arms and the hot, breathless pants against her neck are more than satisfying, and she pulls at it faster, harder, twisting her wrist on the upstroke and closing her hand around the head before sending her fist back down to start again. He groans and works her clit harder. She can practically feel the smugness rolling off him at the quiet moans she can’t contain, pleasure fizzing along every nerve in her body, breath short, loose strands of hair plastered to her face.

It’s building, every cell in her body singing with the sheer physical ecstasy from their hands touching her – Kurt with playful competitiveness, Dave with gentle adoration. Kurt turns his head to kiss her, not as he’d kissed Dave but with all the emotion behind it that she feels when she sees him across the room, and it only takes one, two, three firm rubs to her clit before her orgasm breaks over her. She clenches her thighs around his hand, her spine bowing hard, head thrown back, the knuckles of her free hand shoved between her teeth to cut off the shriek threatening to escape.

“You’re so beautiful,” Kurt whispers, gently pulling his hand out from between her legs and resting it on her hip.

Her heart’s still pounding, and her brain’s still fuzzy, but she kisses him again and keeps fisting his dick, squeezing just hard enough to make him groan and giving the head the attention she remembers that the guys she’s screwed before seemed to really like. Dave reaches around from the opposite side and puts his hand on top of Santana’s, and Kurt groans again and pushes his hips into their fists, face glowing pink and sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Dave chants under his breath. “Jesus fucking Christ, yes, god, so hot, so fucking perfect, love you so much.”

Kurt grips Santana’s hip hard enough to bruise and bites down on the thick muscle between Dave’s neck and shoulder and comes with a muffled groan, body rigid as he spills out over Santana and Dave’s joined hands. He lies still for several seconds, struggling to get his breathing under control, and slowly takes his hand off of Santana’s hip and removes his teeth from Dave’s shoulder, giving the dark red circle an apologetic kiss. “We’ve neglected him long enough, don’t you think?” he asks Santana.

“For sure,” she says, and rolls over out from between his legs to bracket him between her and Kurt. “Scoot down,” she orders him as Kurt pulls the pillows out from behind Dave’s back and tosses them off the bed.

As soon as he complies, she and Kurt both take a wrist and pin them above his head, Santana throwing her leg across the one nearest her to hold him down.

“Great minds,” Kurt says, and Santana nods, smirking down at Dave’s startled face. It shifts to intense arousal as Kurt adds, “Keep them up without Santana holding them and I’ll blow you.”

“God, don’t _say_ things like that,” Dave, closing his eyes and shuddering.

“You love it,” Kurt says, and Santana lets Dave go, snuggling into his side and running her hand across his strong, solid waist.

Kurt doesn’t remove his grip on Dave’s wrist as quickly. Instead, he captures his free wrist and lies on top of Dave, ducking his head down to kiss him again. Dave responds instantly, hot and eager, and they fall into a fierce kiss, dirty and passionate and wild, Dave straining for more and Kurt giving it to him with every ounce of determination he has. They’re both red faced when Kurt pulls back, lips wet and panting heavily. Kurt lets go of Dave’s wrists and slides down his body slowly, kissing a long line from the hollow of his throat to his belly button, even kissing the back of Santana’s hand as he goes.

Dave’s legs fall open immediately as Kurt’s mouth gets closer to his dick, and Santana skims her hand up his side and over his broad chest, catching his nipples with her fingertips and tugging lightly before moving on to the next, more than enjoying the ability to give him the same pleasure that he and Kurt had given her.

Kurt looks up at Dave from his kneeling position between his legs and gives him a wicked smile. “Keep them up,” he repeats, and leans in to lick a broad stripe up his dick from base to head.

Dave swears violently and clutches the mattress above his head, chest heaving, and Kurt laughs and takes him into his mouth, wrapping a hand around the base as he bobs his head and sucks. His free hand slips around Dave’s ass, insinuating it into the small space between skin and mattress, and from the way his wrist moves Santana knows he’s teasing at Dave’s crack with his fingers in a way that makes Dave swear again and push his ass into Kurt’s hand.

“Don’t tease unless you’re gonna do it,” he says breathlessly.

Kurt pulls off for a bare second. “Next time,” he promises, and goes back to blowing Dave in earnest, drool escaping from the corner of his mouth as he takes his dick in as far as he can, cheeks hollow from sucking at it as it slides in and out of his mouth.

Santana pinches at Dave’s nipples, feeling him squirm beneath her arm, and watches Kurt blow Dave. He’s not experienced at it by any stretch of the imagination, but judging by Dave’s reaction, his enthusiasm makes up for his lack of expertise in a big way.

Dave’s lower body jerks up involuntarily, and Kurt pulls his hand free and presses his arm across his hips automatically, as if he’d been anticipating that reaction before it even occurred. Santana laughs, and Kurt smiles around Dave’s dick for a moment before refocusing on the promised blowjob.

Between the endless stream of profanities and praise tumbling from Dave’s mouth he moans, every one louder than the last, until Santana seals her lips over his, ignoring his stubble and distinctively manly scent in favor of keeping him quiet. She flicks a fingernail across one of his nipples and feels him shiver beneath her hand. He moans again into her lips, deep in his throat, and tears his mouth away from hers to choke out, “Kurt – Kurt. I’m –”

Kurt gives him another look of pure, wicked pleasure and sucks hard. Dave gasps loudly and comes in Kurt’s mouth, his face open and stunned, muscles shaking as he sags back into the mattress. “Holy shit,” Dave whispers as Kurt sits up and swallows, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I love doing that to him," Kurt tells Santana with an air of deep satisfaction.

"Giving head?" she asks.

Kurt inclines his head toward Dave, who's still clutching the sheet above his head with trembling hands. "Doing that," he says. "And giving him blowjobs. But mostly doing _that_."

"I'm not gonna argue with that one," Dave says shakily, slowly releasing his death grip on the sheet and letting his arms drop to his sides with a slight wince. "Whenever you want to take advantage of me, do it."

"I plan to," Kurt says, and points to the nightstand. "Pass the water and tissues, will you?" Santana grabs a handful of tissues from the box to wipe her hand and pussy clean before tossing the box to Dave. Kurt holds out his hand to her, and she passes him the glass of water beside the box.

He takes a large gulp and swirls it around in his mouth for several seconds before swallowing and follows it up with another. “Thanks.” He takes several tissues for himself, cleaning himself off and dropping them into the trashcan beside the bed. Dave and Santana follow his example, and they lie side by side on the bed together in silence, hearts still racing and breath still unsteady, until a thought crosses Santana’s mind and she has to either say it or laugh like a maniac all by herself.

“You had sex with a woman,” she says. “And I actually enjoyed that. I think that’s as straight as we’re ever going to get.”

Dave cracks up, and Kurt rolls over to bury his face in Dave’s neck as he snickers. Santana giggles helplessly until tears leak out her eyes.

“Does it even count if we still aren’t attracted to you?” Kurt asks.

“Hell if I know,” she says. “It’s the same thing on my end. But it’s not like that sucked the fun out of it.”

“I’m gonna put some clothes on,” Dave says, wiggling out from between then and standing. He collects their discarded clothes from the floor and throws Kurt and Santana’s at them, pulling on his tee shirt and boxers before crawling back onto the bed.

Santana and Kurt don’t bother sitting up to get dressed, instead squirming into their pajamas while flat on their backs.

“So tired,” Kurt says with a yawn, rolling over and wrapping an arm around Santana’s waist. “Sleep, okay?”

“Mm, sleep,” Santana echoes. She waits for Dave to cuddle in on her other side before letting her eyelids slip closed.

“G’night,” Dave says, and he kisses her forehead gently.

“Night,” Kurt says.

Santana murmurs the word indistinctly, and as her brain slows and tiredness takes over, she thinks of Brittany and sends a final goodbye to her first love. She’ll never stop loving her. But their little universe of three is balanced again, just like it should be. It’s perfect, it’s whole. They’re strange, they’re unconventional, they’re not normal by any definition of the word. But they’re whole again.


End file.
